


spookhacks

by luxuror



Category: soul hackers
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-26
Updated: 2014-02-26
Packaged: 2018-01-13 20:16:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,177
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1239439
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/luxuror/pseuds/luxuror
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>yo, it's me, spooky, there's that diner by the edge of the city and i need to talk to you.</p>
            </blockquote>





	spookhacks

He has an ugly scrawl. It takes me about a minute or two to decipher what the words say: 'I'm taking you out to breakfast; we have to talk about something. I'll be in front of your house, 9:00AM.' He's left handed. The black ink slightly smears over the sharp curves of his scrawls, and I can imagine him ripping a paper from a stray notepad he leaves laying around his tornado of a home, muttering, 'Where's a pen,' in his comforting, familiar, crackling voice, finding one and holding the cap between his teeth, leaving his finished note through the mail slot. 

Spooky wakes up early. I can smell it on him when I pass by, faint smoke clinging to his coat like a child getting a piggyback ride, the lingering coffee breath that tickles my ear due to the fact he has no sense of personal space, speaking muffled through a cigarette in his mouth as he types logarithms, elbows hovering my shoulders, teaching me, eyes a vague sort of tired. 

9:00AM isn't a surprising time, he most likely wakes at 5 or 6 anyway. I get dressed and leave, the man's leaning by the door smoking, staring at the trails blown away by the wind.

"Good morning, Hacker. Sorry I had to wake you up so early," he said, more than just a hint of an apologetical tone than needed.

"Morning, Boss. What's up?"

"Romantic trouble," he says concisely. 

"Hey, I'm Hacker. You know, a stereotypical hacker, always alone, staring at a screen all day, you know? I'm not good with this sort of thing. Ask Hitomi or something, I'm sure she'd be glad to lend you all the advice she's learned through her reality TV shows or whatever."

Spooky laughs quietly, eyes warm. "I'm pretty sure you'll do just fine."

Without any other words, he leads me to his car, driving off to the small family diner at what we Spookies call the Only Good Restaurant at the End of the Road, OGRER for short. A surprisingly short fifteen minute drive from the heart of our city that leads to a path to the outside. If our city is a drop of paint on a canvas, the stray bits are the obscure houses that outline our city, then the diner is the one stray speck, further than the rest, a speck separated by the others. Really depends on how you look at it to determine if it's good luck or bad. 

Fairly isolated, age has taken its toll on the place. Paint peels sadly, the washed out colors begging for an invigorating repaint, the sign lights flickering with a faint buzz. 

Despite looking so shady, it really is a nice restaurant. The place is clean and neat, pretty retro, much to Spooky's delight. The food isn't too bad either, price not too much of a blow on a mid twenties guy's pocket. 

Spooky easily takes a sip of his coffee, freshly poured, scaldingly hot. For all I've known him, he's had a tongue of steel.

'Does it ever burn your tongue to not wait for your coffee to cool or even blow on it, Spooky?!' I asked him the first time I ever had a meal alone with him. 

He laughed. 'Not really. It's a dumb story. I used to watch those black and white movies, you know, with the mafia. It's all I ever thought about as a kid. 'I'd be the first Japanese kid in the mafia,' I'd say! Geez, I was pretty silly as a kid. But those mafia men downed their scalding coffee and smoked their cigarettes and I thought that was pretty cool. So I'm used to having my tongue burn and smoking.' I gave him a look. He coughs a little and loses his composure every time he does. 'Oooooooor at least try. I have to say, I'm not especially fond of it, but I look pretty cool, don't I?'

To which I said, 'Not really, and you're going to die young due to those terrible habits.'

And to which he replied with a smile in a comforting way, 'I'll live to when I'm 500.'

"So, what's this 'romantic trouble' that I can help you with, apparently?"

"Hmm, how do I put it," Spooky says, "I'm afraid I've fallen for someone."

I laughed. "Hah, our leader's finally interested in somebody?"

To which he smiles. "Apparently so."

"They're very kind, concerned in their own way, but the thing is, they're much younger than I am."

Recalling a cute 2D girl about four years my junior, I say, "Love transcends all societal boundaries."

"It wouldn't feel right, I guess is what I'm trying to say." Spooky sighs, running a hand through his hair. 

"Why's that?"

"I'm a little more afraid of things than you think I am," he says, a contemplative look on his face. 

"Well... isn't that natural? All people are afraid of something."

"I probably don't have a chance."

"I don't have a chance with Louisa-chan from Strange Journey," I say, honestly wistful. 

"I wasn't talking about something like that," he says, laughing quietly. "Hey, what do you think I should do?"

"You should probably tell them?"

Why's he asking me about this anyway? I don't know a damn thing about this. 

"I should, but it's a bit scary." 

"Well it's soon or never, that's what I think."

Spooky looks down and smiled. "You're probably right. Hey, you helped me out a lot. I'll drop you off by your house now."

"Um, yeah? No problem," I reply, a little more than confused. I didn't say or do a damn thing. 

He pays for the bill. Spooky has terrible posture, a hand in his pocket as he rummages for his wallet, falling apart after many years of abuse. 

"How long have you had your wallet?"

"Hmm. I got it as a gift when I graduated from high school. It's pretty old, huh?"

His definition of 'pretty old' is falling apart at the seams. The brown lump looks pathetic. 

"Give that thing a rest, Boss, and get a new one!"

"I've gotten a few, but they've all fallen apart faster than this one. Besides, the sentimental value behind this baby is great."

Spooky rubs his bills together, waiting for the cashier. After he pays, we leave.

"Thanks, Boss."

"No prob," he says, putting the car in reverse. 

The ride leading to my house is a quiet one. As we arrive, I take off my seatbelt and start out, but Spooky holds my wrist. 

"Haha, you call me oblivious a lot of the time, Hacker."

"Yes, I do. What's this about, Boss?"

He gives this sad sort of smile, his fingers intertwining with mine. "You're the one more oblivious than I am."

Spooky's stubble tickles my chin, his lips are warm and kind, his hands are moist on my jaw. And when he lets go, I realize that I've been paying attention to him more than any other thing. 

"Now do you see this old spook's fallen for you?"


End file.
